Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Sanctuary?

As I think I've mentioned a couple times before, I work in a weird space. Instead of a purpose-built office building, my department does its thing in what used to be a family mansion, complete with an anaemic Stockbroker Tudor turret running up one side.

My corner of the mansion is up in the attic, under the dormers. This office was carved out of what had been a single, large room running the full depth of the house from north to south. I suspected it to be, and have since learned that it was, a dormitory for the female household staff.

What I'd not been able to figure out until recently is why my part of the room is elevated. The desk, file cabinet, and everything else perch on a deep platform about eight inches higher than the rest of the space. As 19th century domestic life is one of my fascinations, I spent a lot of odd moments mulling this over. I confirmed that there was no structural reason for the platform– no beams or ductwork concealed beneath.

I wondered if, for some hierarchical reason, one of the maids was given a bed higher than the others. But that seemed absurd, and I'd never heard of any such arrangement. Especially in the United States, parlormaids were parlormaids. The butler and housekeeper for this family had their own bedrooms on this floor (hers with a window onto the stairs, so she could monitor comings and goings).

And then all became clear when I was rummaging through the archives and found a program from an event that took place here decades ago. At that time, I learned, the building housed the religious center. And the large room in the attic was the chapel.

Every day I come into work and sit on the altar.

Now the question I mull over in odd moments is whether this makes me a God or a Sacrfice. Given the working conditions around here, I suspect the latter.

I'm pretty sure you're the sacrificial lamb. (Fleece?) Good luck with that. I once worked in a place where I was getting software errors that no one had ever seen, including the engineers who designed and wrote it. I suspected my cube was built over the desecrated burial ground of restless spirits. Or a gateway to Hell, either one.

Send out a memo to everyone containing this information, and the announcement that from now on you will be referred to as "The Great and Powerful Franklin". Who knows, maybe someone More Important will demand to trade work spaces so THEY can have the altar and you can score a real office.

Clearly a sign that you ought to be wearing your robes to work. Gaining a bit of weight and assuming the lotus postion at (on?) your desk wouldn't hurt either, but you might want to break in your co-workers slowly.

I recall when friends of friends bought their first house. It was a large brick home, one of the older ones in town (it's the West--"town" doesn't date much before 1900). Anyway, they were wondering why the home had so many bedrooms--perhaps the original owners had a large family?

They did some research into the house's history and it turns out their house was the first whorehouse built in town. They even found pictures in the town archives of the "girls" hanging out the windows and waving at the cowboys coming into town.

I think this calls for a nice knitted lace alter cloth on your desk and some incense and a Buddha on your filing cabinet. Maybe you can pass the collection plate among your co-workers to pay for it ;-)

Greetings from a South Florida Knitter. Brenda complimented me on my win of her caption contest some time ago by saying that it reminder her of you and your Delores tales...now I see why that is the highest compliment I could have hoped to achieve! (plus I got free yarn...s'all good!)

Franklin, dear, there could be no better place for your to do your work than this lovely sounding building. I think of all the god-awful looking monstrosities around the Loop, and you could be buried in one of those.

You need to read Alan Hollinghurst's, The Folding Star if you haven't...check out my blog for a VERY brief description, and let me know if you'd like my copy. I'd be glad to send it along.

I think that's fabulous -- and it's part of why I love to study history so much. There's always something amazing to discover! Although I'll have to admit it might make me a little uncomfortable if I were in your position.

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